Frangleterre
by Sheepsama13
Summary: France devised the plan to marry England to help his nation. Will things go as planned or fall apart? Beginning taken off of H.H's original comic. YAOI. FRUK!Rated M for later chapters that will get a little frisky.
1. Marry Me Please!

**It's been a while since I've written, huh? The last story was 'Recovery' (besides 'Craving' that is… ), but I never got to finish that due to laziness and the fact that Japan decided to spring up an idea along the same road. So here I am once again, . Hope I can get some readers for this one too. **

**My first Hetalia fanfiction! I know I've tried to write many a fic for other series such as Phoenix Wright and Gundam 00. Well, here goes nothing though! **

**Title comes from the attempted Anglo-Franco Union. At the time, the French called it Frangleterre. Fr=France and angleterre=England. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters. **

**This is YAOI. Don't like. Don't read. **

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><p>"M-marry…you?"<p>

The words stumbled out of the Englishman's mouth more slurred that he would have liked. He continued to gape at the man from across the table, which despite their elegant posture was looking rather nervous.

"Do not think I have not considered other possibilities, mon chéri."

"No."

"B-but! I am desperate! You have to understand, _Angleterre_!"

"Hell no, and don't call me that!"

"It is your name after all." The Frenchman pointed out. He leaned back in the sitting chair, looking even more relaxed than ever. His fingers grasped the chair's arms tightly unbeknownst to the stammering nation across the way.

"My NAME is England, wanker!" He continued to be seated, although acting rather irritated about the conversation. Of course he would never let the country of love know that secretly he had won over a part of his heart. So he glared instead as France pulled out a piece of paper.

"Please." The other begged. Any other time and England would be laughing in his face at the shear patheticness that France's face now held. England looked away and scoffed.

"No for the final time. What, is this your idea of an April Fool's Joke? It's not even April Fools Day, you fool. Why don't you go out and get yourself a calender?" He rambled. Trying to get away from France was proving harder than he thought. Every time he would make a move against him, he was always pulled back, whether it was from the beautiful aroma that surrounded the man or the deep emotion that were in his sparkling blue eyes.

"A-ah, yes! This is a calender!" France held it up. England strained to read it from his distance. It could be clearly read as:

_Marriage Certificate_.

England froze and felt himself forget to breathe for a moment. He was serious this time wasn't he? England never took to heart any of France's moves upon him, because frankly, he was never truly serious.

It hurt England even a little to gaze at the paper and know that again, this really wasn't a serious effort on France's part. It was about money after all. He had seen it persuade many countries into joining unions with one another.

"T-that's not a calender, git! It's a marriage certificate!" He voice was already shakey due to shock, but nothing more. Thankfully, it added to his acting and France and he fell into their same routine of fighting.

"Non! It is a calender!" France grabbed England's hand and proceded to place a pen in it and force the letters for England out onto the paper. England held back a blush as their skin made contact and focused on the task at hand.

With a few swipes of the pen, the ink scratched out England's name. France yelled out something not of any language and fell to his knees. He grabbed the hem of England's suit. He wasn't crying or shaking, so this mearly was another one of his ploys he was so good at.

England swipped his hand away and started to walk away. France once again held onto England. "Please, my people and I...we are desperate!"

"Should have thought about that before you wasted all your money, then." France grabbed both his arms and dragged him away.

"It'll all be alright." He repeated to himself as England tried to struggle against him.

-!-

England woke up to someone shaking him. Blinking a few times the fuzzy image became clearer. Blond hair, glasses...America?

He sat up quickly from what appeared to be a couch. He panted slightly and turned to America.

The other person gave a weak smile and cocked their head to one side. "I'm sorry, I'm not exactly the person you wanted to see, right?" His voice was low and England wasn't even sure if he had even spoke.

"Oh...Canada." England rubbed the back of his neck. It was sore and he imagined he had slept wrong on the overly soft sofa. "Sorry, for a minute I thought you were-"

"America, I know." Canada said, cutting him off. England gave him a long stare before smoothing out the blanket that covered him. As he did, he froze and let out a silent scream. Canada put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"C-canada? What happened? Tell me that bloody frog didn't do what I think he did!"

"England, please calm down!" Canada attempted once more. England only grabbed the younger country's arms and shook him slightly.

"What happened, Matthew?"

Canada stood quiet for a moment. Many didn't use their given human names hardly at all. Canada was surprised that someone other than France had remembered it. "Well..."

"I have a ring. Please tell me that he really didn't..."

"Um...he really did?" Canada said back, though saying it more like a question rather than a statement.

England buried his face in his knees. He sat there 'mourning' until both nations heard the front door open. England knew full well now that this was Canada's home, so the only other person besides the occasional Cuba that came along was...

France entered the room with multiple bags in hand. Canada stood up slowly and walked to the side of the wine-loving country. England looked up, hair brushing against his eyelashes, darkly to France.

"You..." He uttered, but sounded like it had come from some sort of demonic creature. France set down the bags and pulled out a tiny mahogany box from one of them.

"Settle down now. I went through the trouble of getting you this, after all." He opened it up so that England could see that it was tea leaves individually wrapped in cloth. "Let's see, there's Earl Grey and Chai, oh and here's some-"

England lunged at him causing the box to fall to the floor. His hands so desperatly wanted to grab and wrap themselves around the Frenchmen's neck. Instead they clutched at the smooth fabric around his collar.

He glanced down, not wanting the other nation to see the other in such shame. England was far too proud for that. So, he gazed at their feet. He took in the fact that at one point he was as tall as France, but now, significantly shorter. His style of shoes were a little out of date as well.

"_Angleterre_..."

"So, what do you want from me, frog?"

"Eh?"

"What? Do you think now that you've managed to actually make this work that I'd stay around?" England spat. He still stared at the ground, but his grip on France tightened.

"Our people need this,_ Angleterre_..." France said quietly, not at all like his flamboyant self.

"Do they now?" England responded sarcastically. He let go and turned towards what was the entrance and started to walk away. "I'm going."

"You can't walk away from this, mon cheri."

"Watch me, frog."

"What would your people say?"

"They already hate you, it makes no difference."

"And if it did, _Angleterre_? What if they actually wanted to see this work? If you walk away now they might never forgive you."

England said nothing for a moment. Without turning to face France he spoke. "So what am I supposed to do?" Desperation lingered in his voice.

"At least try, _mon lapin peu chers_."

England turned to him. His face was a bit sullen but firm. He refused to meet the Frenchman's eyes. His fists clenched then released. "..Fine..."

Canada gaped in utter surprise. He wasn't expecting to see England give in so easily. The Britshman was still set in his ways after all, but it looked as if he could be persuaded to change.

"One condition."

"What would that be?"

"Stop calling me things like that!"

Canada sighed. Or perhaps not...

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><p><strong>So, first chapter done! I know, I know. SHORT. Good start though I think. The irony in all this is that I am of English descent. My whole family came over from England, so I have great pride in my homeland. After all I am 3rd generation from their immigration here. I can't say exactly how they got here, but it involves Canadians! XD<strong>

**In other words: I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH. Granted I am learning Spanish and Italian, but French isn't for me. So if I mess up, feel free to correct. I am using friends, my own pety knowledge and dictionaries to help me. **

**French:**

_**Angleterre**_**: England**

_**Mon chéri**_**: my darling**

_**mon lapin peu chers: **_**my dear little rabbit**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Next chapter is named: **_**To your place or mine?**_


	2. To your place or mine?

**Chapter 2! Damn, I already messed up. In the last chapter I guess I wrote 'cheap rabbit'. I forgot about petit. Sorry, France! **

**This chapter is going to be longer for sure. Again, any help with the French is appreciated! So for this chapter things get a bit more like marriage. Just a warning to all who want something clean to read. Sorry, but I rated this M for later chapters. It has France in it after all!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of it's characters. **

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><p>After England had finally agreed to follow through with the marriage, Canada agreed to make some tea to calm the mood further. France sat on an adjacent chair from the couch while Canada decided he suddenly wanted to finish up laundry.<p>

England bent over from his spot on the sofa, holding the cup carefully, looking into the tea's reflection of him. He glanced down at the ring that now adorned his finger. It was beautiful to say the least and it didn't over emphasize anything much.

"I did not know what you would like, _Angleterre_." France said, breaking the silence. The air felt rather thick and contricting and France's voice hit it like a ton of bricks.

"This is fine." England mumbled and took a sip of his tea. Canada normally did not make tea apparently for it was a little lacking in flavor.

"Well then that's good then!" France smiled. Anything that wasn't yelling from the blonde across the way was a better sign than he could have asked for.

"You can live your life as you normally would." France stated as if giving out a set rules to live by. England looked up at him. Although he had been secretly a little thrilled about spending time with France that wouldn't have been either clawing out the other's throat, hearing his statement made his heart drop.

The marriage was nothing more than a show. Like the Queen of England, he thought. No real power, it was just a symbol. England could feel rage and jealousy build up in him. France would continue his flauntering about and harrassing other countries. England would sip his tea silently at his house, occasionally noticing the ring that would be on his finger.

England's cup hit the coffee table as England set it down roughly. He was shaking inside. How could he just do this to him? Didn't he realize how he felt?

But of course not. As far as the Frenchman was concerned, he believed that England hated him with all his heart. So England was thrilled at the prospect of this union. England could finally let out what had been inside for so long. Before even America was around.

"_Angleterre_?"

"A-arthur." England stammered out. France gazed at him in wide shock. He had almost forgotten that the other nation had a human name, given that he was never allowed to use it.

"_Quoi_?"

"My name is Arthur." England said, looking away. "To you that is." He added. He took another long sip of his tea and tried to avoid looking in France's direction.

"What is with this all of the sudden?" France chuckled.

"Francis." England said slowly careful to pronounce each sound. It rolled off his tongue like honey and he shuddered a little at his own bravery. Not many nations called one another by their human names. Even America rarely did, even if it was only to England. "You've forced me to marry you and now you want to just pretend it didn't happen?"

England's voice had raised a few octaves and caused Canada to peek his head around the corner.

"_Angleterre_, I did not think you wanted this in the first plance let alone to actually act on it."

"_Je ne serai pas juste un autre jouet pour vous pour jouer avec_!" England yelled and stood up.

"Y-you know _Français_?" France exclaimed staring at him in surprise. He took in England's words. "Of course you're not a toy, and I'm not going to play you, _mon_ _chéri_."

"You do it plenty enough." England huffed.

"_Angleterre_, I came to you first! If I had wanted someone or something else, you would not be there right now!" He smiled and set his cup down gently on the table and walked over to where England still stood.

His hugged the smaller country, smoothing the messy blonde hair. England buried his face in France's shoulder and France gave a small laugh. "I did not know that you wanted me that bad, _Angleterre_."

"Shut up, frog." England said, muffled a little due to his face still smothered in France's clothes. "And it's Arthur."

"_Oui_,_ oui_. Arthur." France grinned. "Then it is Francis, not frog."

-!-

The rest of their day went better than they expected. Besides the usual spat of name-calling, fighting was at a minimum and Canada had already walked in on them chatting peacefully.

"They must fight for show." Canada said to himself. He smiled as he entered the living room. Both elder countries looked up.

"Oh, _Mathieu_!" France greeted him. Canada looked to them, unfazed by his name being called. With France it was common. He had raised him from a young age and had at one point told the Canadian that he wanted to call his beloved son by something that no one else did. Something that had given them ties.

"Hello, France." He responded gingerly. England thanked the world that Canada did not end up as loud and perverted as France. "Hello, England."

The latter country gave a polite nod towards the other. "Did you need something?"

Canada held a old oak tray with a tea set on it. It shook a little as he set down individual cups and filled them to brim. He spooned in the right amount of sugar for England.

"I-I couldn't help but wonder if you both were going to be staying here for a while...is all." He squeaked. He went a little far with the sugar in France's cup.

France held up a hand and took it anyway, wincing a bit as all the sweetness hit his tongue. He still lingered the edge of the cup to his lips.

"Hmm..._Mathieu_ has a point. I did not think about living arrangements." He set his tea on the table and pulled out a small notepad from his jacket pocket along with a pen. "Your place or mine?"

"What?"

"We can't expect to live here with_ Mathieu _after all. It wouldn't be proper." He winked. England crossed his legs.

"Well, I'm not living in that overly flowered house of yours!"

"Then yours." France scribbled a few things down before tapping his pen against his lips. "I'll have to bring some things, and of course some of my decorations, we are married after all."

"I was hoping to get away from all those flowers you have laying around."

"And look who's talking! That garden of yours is full of flowers!"

"Outside."

France clicked his tongue and scratched something out on the paper. "Fine then, no inside flowers. But my bedding is coming with me. That rough fabric you call a blanket has got to go."

England said nothing. He rather like France's sheets, having been in them at least once. He hid his blush behind his cup and stared out the window. He hadn't really thought of the fact that they were married now and going to be living together they might...

France stood up. "I'm off then. I should be done and back at your...our place later this evening then!" He gave a gentle smile to Canada before disappearing towards the front door. "Bye, Arthur!"

England smiled. 'Bye...Francis.' He thought to himself.

-!-

France was late. He had to be late. Something might have happened to him, like he was robbed or something. England ran through the many posibilities as he buttoned up the shirt he was going to bed in.

It was a little big on him and he imagined that it had been someone else's at one point but he could no longer remember who's. He stared at himself in his large mirror in his bedroom. He was asking for it. As it was all he was in was the dammned shirt. If France saw this he'd want to test the new bedsheets for sure.

England quickly removed the shirt and pulled some pajama bottoms on. The door creaked open to the room as he grabbed an appropriate shirt from the closet, almost putting it on.

"I'm back." France froze in the doorway, bed assortments in hand. He cocked his head to one side and gave a devilish smile. "Already? We've only been married for a day."

England threw the spare shirt he had originally planned to wear in the Frenchman's face. France peeled it off and looked at it carefully. He blinked a few times before the corners of his mouth turn into a sweet smile.

"I didn't know you were so sentimental, Arthur. You even kept one of my shirts."

England blushed furiously. Damn it all, it had to be one of his. Inside he was a bit happy that it had been one of France's shirts and not some article from America's endless adventures that had left him with an entire wardrobe ruined from one of his stupid escapades.

"I'm not!" He tore the shirt back from France. With that he proceeded to go into the bedroom's adjoined bathroom. He sat and stared at himself long and hard in the mirror. The blush just wouldn't go away.

He couldn't let France know what feelings he held. Not yet at least. As this marriage continued on, he would let little signs out. Yes! He would make it seem as if their time together progressed slowly and he fell in love over time. Not the other way around.

The whole thing crumbled as he exited the bathroom. The sheets looked nice now that France had put them on. The red silk comforter surrounded France as he glanced warmly to England, getting ready to turn the only light in the room; a lamp; off.

England refused to look at him any longer than he needed to and climbed into bed. There was no point in arguing with France into sleeping in another room. That fight never went anywhere.

France turned off the light and pulled the covers around him. England waited. One. Two. Three. Any moment now and France was bound to try something in the dark.

England counted to fifteen minutes and still no response to the other man. England could hear his slow breathing, indicating in fact he had fallen asleep.

So now he lay there. Silent, but secretly irritated. He swallowed hard and turned to where France lay next to him, facing his direction. Inch by inch, England scooted closer to the other until he rested in his arms. He gave a satisfying exhale and felt France's arms tighten around him.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

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><p><strong>ARGGGHHH! Second chappie's done! Not as long as I would have liked, but I'm getting there. I've been getting a strange reaction from my group of friends at school because of this. XD It doesn't help that:<strong>

**1. In my group I am England and therefore supposed to hate France.**

**2. I happen to be dating the America of our group( Seriously, we is together! )...she doesn't really care though about this pairing surprisingly. **

**Um, Arthur's French is a little choppy I think but it pretty much says ( I think ) that he will not be just another toy to be played with. Or something rather. I am trying I swear!**

**Well next chapter is titled: **_**Breakfeast in Bed with Tea**_


	3. Smiles in the rain

**Omigosh guys! Thank you all so much for the reviews! I hope I can continue to please you all! Well, here's the third chapter. This will be the second time I've written this too. The first time I wrote this, my finger hit SOME key on the keyboard, I still don't know what it was, and deleted the WHOLE thing. And I mean that it's no where to be found anywhere. Besides the point, I have moved since then and didn't want to start writting it again until I was settled in once again.**

**Plus, I really didn't like the first one, so I will get to revise it plenty and make it a lot better. This should lead to better smut latter anyway. :) Oh, and I changed the title of this chapter since it's different from the first one. Sorry about that to breakfast in bed fans.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters.**

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><p>Morning came without anything new. The same birds, the same sunshine and the same irritating feeling. Although England now had France back into his bed, the feeling this time was very much different. The sun hit England's emerald eyes with much distaste as he rolled over to get out of bed. Only to be stopped by another's arms that is.<p>

He didn't bother to look around to see if the other was even awake. By the way the long fingers grabbed his hips tightly, he imagined he was indeed. Instead of crawling back to him, England yawned and slapped France's hands away.

France pouted slightly, his eyes only portruded beneath his eyelids in tiny slivers. He snorted, and too gave a yawn then proceeded to stretch across the bed.

England sighed and went to his closet near the bed to find some suitable clothes for the day. He was a little annoyed to see that somehow France had managed to avoid his notice and put most of his belongings in with the island nation's. His fingers ran across some of the delicate fabrics, appreciating the soft elegance that came with them. He always admired French fashion, but due to his long past was never able to wear it.

'To flashy for some boring bloke like me anyway.' He thought to himself and ran a hand through his messy hair.

Finding a decent striped shirt and pleated pants he walked to the bathroom all the while watching as France's eyes followed him. It felt a little strange to dress there. After all, France and he had intimate moments before, so it wasn't like the man had never seen the other without so much as a shirt or pants on. Still, England thought, it's so different this time.

He looked down to the glistening ring that still hugged his finger. He smiled at it and watched as it dazzled in the light from the window.

"Are you coming out of there, Arthur?" A voice said from the other side. It was still obvious he was laying in suddeness of the question startled him and he grabbed the bathroom sink. Hearing nothing else, England picked up the articles of clothing from the floor and opened the door to face the bearded man.

"What? Are you in a hurry or something?"

France rolled off the mattress and smiled at the other. "Actually, yes."

England found his eyebrows raise in a questioning manner. He went ahead and put the dirty clothes in his hamper in the corner of the room and observed as France took his shirt off.

In the middle of the room. With England still standing there.

England's eyes ran over France's muscles and chisled chest. Though it was much hairier than his own, that didn't stop him from gawking. England swallowed hard and turned around, trying to find something more interesting out the nearby window. His gaze though kept wandering to the other. England almost passed out when France started to undress the bottom portion of his wardrobe.

He snapped his attention back to the outside and clamped a hand over his mouth and nose. When had he become such a prude? He had seen much more of France's body that that and still!

As England pulled his hand away after calming down and he once again noticed the ring. He held in a little gasp, and not one of shock, but secret thrill. Of course! Things were different he reminded himself.

France was his. His and his alone now.

"Are you ready?" France asked. England snapped out of his daydreaming and faced him.

"Ready for what?"

"To go out. I thought we'd go out shopping today. There are many things we still need around here." France stated while button his cuffs.

"What else do you need?" England asked, slightly exasperated.

France gave him a blank look. " Well nothing in particular, but you don't ever shop for just...things?"

"I shop when I need something."

"Then you, _monsieur_ have never been shopping."

"Unlike you, I am a man and I don't shop for no reason at all." England snorted. France grinned and sighed.

"Let's just go, _oui_?"

"Fine."

They decided to go by a local street filled with vendors and cute shops. France was impressed with the many stores and kept joyfully expressing his utter surprise at the fact that England's land was actually more modern that he would of imagined.

France would stop by a window and peer in and run inside coming back out in a matter of seconds with a bag. The two had not even passed by five different stores and France had already accumulated at least ten or so small bags.

England didn't say much their trip. He was enjoying the time they were spending together and did not want to ruin it with some foul mouthed insult of his. He kept his eyes to the road ahead of him and did not pay France much attention.

That was until the latter country yanked him back by grabbing his arm. England almost fell over from the force, but regained his balance with not much dignity left. He scowled at France wondering why the hell he had pulled on him.

France's eyes were, yet again, in another window. From the look of it, it was another clothing store at that. England chose not give it any thought and turned to walk away. France pulled him back once more and pointed at one piece hanging in the front.

England's neck dropped a little at the sight of it. "What of it?"

"I want to get that." France gently smirked. England hated that smirk sometimes and he eyed the article. It was lingerie. Women's lingerie.

England felt his heart drop. He knew this whole thing would never last. France's urges for anyone new, including the opposite sex were too strong. He should of known that he couldn't contain him.

"_Angleterre_?"

"Why?" England frowned. 'He's not even saying my name...' He thought.

"Why what,_ mon petit lapin_?"

"Why do you want it?" England asked. He had to force back the shaking that was lingering in his voice. He wanted to know. He wanted to hear France admit it, to face his own truth.

"I want to see you in it." France said and he looked back to the lingerie. With that he ran into the shop.

England could only stare at where the Frenchman had once been standing. He suddenly felt guilty for doubting him and as France came back out with another bag, England sighed.

"Sorry...Francis."

"Hm? What for?"

"Nothing." England looked down and smiled.

On their way home it started to rain. France yelped in surprise and ran under a nearby store's auning. England gave a small chuckle and walked to where France stood. The Frenchman gave a curse in French and tried to ring out his wet clothes. England was dripping with water, but he seemed not to mind.

"This occurs a lot in this country, doesn't it?" France asked. Green eyes looked to him behind driplets.

"You expected anything less?"

"_Non_, you just don't seem very affected by it." France said and pointed to the fact that England was soaked and payed no attention to it.

"This is my country after all."

"Do you like the rain?"

England shrugged. "Well sometimes it can put a damper on things." He gestured to France and the many shopping bags. "But for the most part I like it actually."

England smiled to himself and walked back out into the rain, letting the drops hit his face and gently roll down to his soaked shirt.

France watched the sight before him with gratidude. England was never one to let this much of a vunerable side out of him very often. He observed with patience and said nothing.

Still in the rain and looking to the clouds, England let one eye fall back to France. His lips curved a little upwards. "Why don't we head home?"

It had grown dark when they had arrived back to their home. France was tired and was ready to crash any moment and England was in a strangely good mood. He told France to go ahead upstairs and clean up and get dressed in something warm and he would set some tea on the stove.

France obliged, complaing though that England was still standing downstairs with a weird grin on his face and in wet clothes. He sighed as he tried to possibly imagine why the man was in so pleasant.

After all, at the lingerie store he acted to upset. Perhaps he had changed his mind about wanting to wear it? France beamed at this inner image. England's voice from downstairs threw him from his thoughts.

"Tea's ready!"

France hopped downstairs and met the green eyed gentlemen holding and empty cup that had had tea in it but a few moments ago. He handed France a nice teacup and tilted his head in the direction of the sugar. "Help yourself why I go and get a change of clothes, will you?"

England walked to the stairs to go the bedroom. France watched him as he stopped suddenly and slowly turned around. England faced him with a simple contented look. He walked up to him and leaned up and into France so that their lips touched.

England let himself do all the work given that he started it all. He ran one hand along France's stubbled cheek and delved in deeper, feeling France jump a bit with surprise and pleasure as the two nation's tongues clashed together.

Before France could readily get into the kiss, England pulled away and grinned. "Goodnight, Francis."

And with that England went off to bed leaving France to wonder what had gotten into him.

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><p><strong>So that was a lot different than my original. I know I titled this about breakfeast in bed, but that was my original one, so please forgive the change in title. Honestly I like this one. I hope I can get these to be longer. I know I wanted to have a chappie out every Monday, but things got delayed. So, what will become of this merry couple?<strong>

**NEXT CHAPTER will be M-rated. Obvious reasons that kinda started in this chapter. I have to ask a question though:**

**Do you readers like reading smut with **_**descriptions **_**or **_**implications**_**? I don't know if people like reading things that describe everything or just imply things during the act?**

**So, if you might be honest and answer me that! Reviews please, they keep me alive!**

**Next chapter is titled: **_**Yes, I do**_


	4. Yes I Do

**WOW! I finally got to publish the rest of this! **

**I am so sorry to those waiting for this! I was...gone for a while. **

**PLEASE ENJOY-I give you smex. So, err, this is M rated. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers:Hetalia or any of it's characters.**

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><p>France decided to drink his tea slow and enjoy the taste. Given the circumstances he really rather have had wine, but begars cannot be choosers. He set the empty cup in the sink and noticed how his hands shook.<p>

'It must be the excitement of knowing what about to happen.' He thought to himself and gave a devilish grin. He loosened his tie and headed to the bedroom upstairs.

England was sitting on the edge of the furniture with a strange look upon his face as he gazed up to France entering the room. France froze with one foot still in midair.

England was breathing fast and looked to him while biting his lower lip. All this, while wearing the lingerie that France had bought that day.

"H-hey, Arthur. What is this?" France stuttered out. England took a long breath in and looked away.

"I didn't think you wanted to waste your money."

"_Non_, I did not...but..." France said and gave much time into trying to think what to say next.

"Come now, Francis." England asserted looking directly into France's eyes. He then seemed scared and glanced away again. "We both know what we want."

"_Oui_, we do." France agreed. "Arthur." He walked to the bed and stood infront of the man. "I don't want to push you to do this if you really don't want to."

England glared into blue eyes. "I want to." France moved in closer and his knee now rested near the other man's groin. England sucked in a little bit of breath.

"_Non, mon cheri_." The Frenchman softly said and his mouth curved into a tiny smile. "I want to." He reached down besides the bed never letting his eyes leave England. He grabbed a bottle and held it up.

England looked away once more. "Are you drunk?" France asked. Two beautiful green eyes stared longily into France's. He shook his head and sighed.

"No."

"I think you are."

"I'm not." England eyes held back a few tears. "I swear I'm not, Francis."

France smiled, a genuine smile and moved in closer. He cupped either side of England's face and leaned in so their lips touched. This time France was able to fully savor the act. England's lips were soft and sweet and did not feel like they should belong to a former pirate. He moved them with a grace France didn't even know he had, He flung his arms around the Frenchman's neck and let the other enter his mouth even deeper.

France took his time. This was not their first time being stuck in a situation like this and both knew where those led to. France would hurry and finish his part and neither bother to see if England had finished nor was close. Then he would shower, come back to see that England had fallen asleep then take his leave.

But no. Not this time. France pulled back from the Englishman and watched his expression with glee. England wasn't so happy to stop and he pulled France back in for another kiss.

And another and another.

England just didn't seem satisfied with that and he started to peel off France's clothes. France was all too pleased with this and he didn't try to help. England became increasingly frustrated when the process wasn't going as fast as he would have liked and he cursed something under his breath.

France's shirt came off and was thrown somewhere around on the floor. England swallowed hard when his chisled chest was exposed and he ran his pale and slender fingers from the collarbone down to-

France nearly yelped in surprise when England had taken the initiative to grab his erection. He was even more surprised when England had managed to push France off of him and on to the bed. France's pants were off in a second and England grabbed France's erection again.

And through the other country's underwear that was still on England stroked it, glad to see that France was starting to enjoy himself.

They had been selfish lovers in the past, if one could even call them lovers at all. Their sordid affair lasted centuries and it always ended the same. France was always wanting the act for himself, and much was the same for England. France did his part then would be done. England would never be satisfied and would never want to give, only recieve.

And so France's moans now as England glided his hand along his cock and went ahead to licking the tip through the cloth was not of just pleasure. It was happiness. They were both changing, he was sure of it.

When the underwear was starting to get wet, England stopped and stood up. He slowly slid down the lingerie he had been wearing and told France to get ready while he did the same and he left for the bathroom.

A few minutes passed and France was already burning for England again. The image of England between his legs again and again popped back into his mind. The more he thought of it the more he wanted him. When France had resorted to begging in his head for the bathroom door to open, it did.

The British gentlemen looked a little uncomfertable but nothing else. And actually if France could have placed that tiny quirk on his lips he would have guessed he was happy too. He had sat on the edge of the bed and waited until England walked to where he was.

France admired the English body. While it was a bit scrawny for a military man and someone who was constantly working out, it was made mostly of lean muscle. He glided England's hips over his own until England was sitting on him.

Both men's hardness were now rubbing against one another and they each let out their own sigh of excitement. France let his fingers run up and down England's spine, feeling how the other shivered at the motion and slightly moved with it.

France watched as England bucked slightly against him, his body aching for more contact. Francis wanted more. He ran his rough fingers and hands along every inch of the Englishman's milky skin and noticed how it shivered under his touch.

Arthur wasn't so pleased with the teasing and tried to cry out his complaints but they came out in raspy pants. Thankfully Francis understood to pick up the pace and glided his strong hands to England's hips. Arthur swallowed hard and closed his eyes and waited for France to enter him hard and unmercifully.

Suddenly though, France ran his fingertips to England's lips, poking until Arthur parted them so they were inside his mouth.

"Suck, Arthur." Francis commanded without hesitation. Arthur only glanced down at him at a little bit of a loss, but did as he was told. He closed his eyes and with one hand held Francis' wrist as if to steady it while wrapping his tongue around the large fingers also beginning to suck on the tips.

France tried to steady a moan, but to no avail. He had been with many partners, but something such as this was most likely one of the best. Watching Arthur's face contorted in simple pleasure and feeling his little enthusiasm with Francis' fingers made this a moment to remember.

France took back his fingers and lifted England up off of him until he was now laying on his back on the silk sheets. Francis held Arthur's shoulder as he looked into his beautiful eyes.

"Remember to relax, _mon amour_." He whispered to the man below. Arthur nodded. France moved his hands down to England's entrance and England squirmed with excitement. He then let a finger play around the hole, watching as it contracted to his touch.

"Nervous?"

"N-no." Arthur gasped and panted.

France proceeded to press one finger until it entered him and Arthur let out a small cry, but grabbed the sheets. Francis moved the finger around inside him and then added another. He continued this until Arthur moaned loudly and was panting even louder.

France pulled his fingers out and lifted Arthur's hips. He gave a nod to the man and in return recieved a small one in return. Francis then let his erection enter the smaller nation.

Arthur's hips rocked against Francis' as he pushed in and out of him. The Englishman reached up and grabbed Francis' golden locks and pulled. Francis' groaned and pushed even harder listening to their pants together.

"F-francis!" Arthur cried. He kept repeating it over and over, eyes closed in ectasy.

With more and more of Arthur's noises that were like honey to Francis' ears brought them both closer to climaxing. One more push felt like it was the last.

Finally Arthur grasped Francis' shoulders and moved with him, feeling like he was miles from all his problems and the rest of the world. There was no world conferance and no wars. Right here and right now it was just the two of them. Not England and France, but Arthur and Francis.

Not countries. But lovers.

France gasped as he too finished. He rolled over to Arthur's side, grabbed the younger nation, and pressed him against him.

Arthur said nothing but enjoyed the moment.

The next morning promised to be more eventful. Francis woke up to find that Arthur's side was empty. He yawned and stretched and made his way down to the kitchen to find another attempt at cooking on Arthur's part.

Though, it seemed to be going fairy well actually. The normal burnt and horrid smell that would come from this particular room in the small cottage whenever the Englishman was in it, was missing. Instead it was replaced by a sweet and almost enjoyable aroma.

Francis was shocked and continued to watch as the Brit danced around the kitchen, humming and a small smile was plastered on his face. Although what Francis didn't want to see were the tiny shimmering sparkles that danced along with him.

On closer inspection he noticed they weren't just any sparkles, but-

"F-fairies?" He stuttered to himself. The British gentleman that still glided across the room thankfully didn't hear him and neither did the tiny friends of his. They chattered and laughed, their little voices like wind chimes in the air.

"Then what, Artie?" One said, fluttering above where Arthur was mixing some sort of batter. He stopped and looked out the small kitchen window and smiled to himself.

"Then we fell asleep. It has to be one of the best nights of my life. Besides finding Matthew that is."

Francis felt his ego start to kick in, but knew if he barged in on the Englishman's good mood, the food would probably suffer and Francis was indeed looking forward to trying something of Arthur's that didn't taste like...well ass.

So instead he walked away and went to the library that Arthur had tucked away in the small house. It was a bit cramped for Francis' style and perhaps that was because that most nations had much bigger houses filled with servants and maids.

It was obvious the English nation liked his privacy and solace. He refused to be taken care of like some sort of spoiled child as he called the rest of the others. Francis searched for a book to read and smiled when he came across _L'Morte d' Arthur._

He had remembered his own people writing that story. He had heard them talking about the legendary king for some time and he could only conclude that it was England himself they were talking about. He wouldn't have doubted that's where the name came from after all.

His people were prone to romance and added in the Queen and the bit of affair she had with Lancelot though.

As he sat and read the book, that despite what Arthur would say, was in French still. It was peaceful to sit and read his native tongue. He was just nearly at the part where King Arthur left to France to save his beloved Queen. Francis could only wonder if Arthur in this day, his Arthur, would rescue him the same way.

Then he was reminded of something he had almost forgotten, and how could he have?

Dunkirk.

_France stood against the cliff, ready to face his fate. Germany had chased him all the way to the coast and by the looks of it he wasn't ready to stop there. As it was, he had already started to tear Paris apart. _

_Francis felt his heart tear again and again as the Nazi soldiers tore through his wonderful city. He was so tired, so very tired. He was ready to just lay down and rest. To stop hurting and just forget he was here, to forget there was a war. _

_Germany gave him a glare. "Any last words, France?"_

_France felt his lips part and he was ready to oblige to the angry German. Before he could utter one sound though a loud shot rang through the cold air. _

_"Don't you dare, Frog."_

_France couldn't believe that voice spoke from behind him. He looked behind him to see a very confident looking Brit riding on the channel on a large ship. How did they manage to get this close without the Germans knowing?_

_Another shot and then suddenly thousands of British troops climbed onto the French soil, all aiming their weapons at the German. _

_"What would I do now if I let someone else beat up this useless Frog?" England said to himself. He held up a small pistol and aimed at Germany. _

_Germany instead held his ground. He lowered his own gun that he had been pointing at France and looked England straight in the eyes. _

_"I will not leave France, but if you wish to rid me of this nuisance yourself, then by all means take him."_

_England pulled his trigger and let a bullet graze Germany's shoulder, who let out a hiss of pain. _

_France could only watch as England was so serious and deadly. He hadn't seen him like this since his pirate days, but even though his eyes burned with a hatred he had never seen in them. Not even when directed at the Frenchman himself. _

_"Get on the boat, France." England said as his eyes were still narrowed at Germany. A couple of the British came over and helped him down and onto the vessel and he watched as many French troops were helped the same way. _

_But now France was worried. From his position down in the water he could no longer see England and Germany. Three gunshots sounded off and France ran to the railing of the ship, knuckles turning white. _

_"ENGLAND!" _

_He saw a figure jump off the small cliff and into the water as Germany continued to shoot after him before finally giving up and disappearing over the cliff. _

_Minutes went by and England didn't surface. France started to panic as the water where he had landed was turning red. _

_"Ar-arthur?" France gasped. He then pulled off his jacket and shoes and jumped in the water himself. Searching for the small Brit amongst the bloody water and it's already somewhat murky nature was a hard task. _

_Eventually he found the man unconscious and starting to sink deeper and deeper. France knew this wasn't enough to kill the nation, but they were in wartime and his country's moral would suffer. _

_He grabbed onto him and swam to the ship, allowing the man's fellow people to haul him out of the water before being pulled onto deck himself. He crawled to where England was now sprawled, blood pouring from wounds in his arms. _

_'At least it was just your arms. But, mon amour...' He hugged the man tightly. They may fight and played around the fact that their people hated one another, but France never did. _

_England was a difficult one to read, but he was good deep down. Childish at times though. His jealousy had killed Jeanne. His pride had cost him an Empire. His greed had abandoned friends and allies. His wrath had murdered and conquered thousands. His own lust had played France's heart many times. _

_But deep down, England was lonely. He wanted companionship so bad, it burned brightly from within him. This is why France knew that England never had hated him. He just wanted him._

_Even as he had the woman all of France adored on a stake because he was desperate to get France to be his again, France can remember the amount of tears that poured down his small cheeks as he begged for forgiveness. _

_He pulled England closer to him. _

_"Thank you, mon ami."_

Francis looked up from where his had drifted off into space. He looked down at the book and closed it.

Perhaps he should just go and bother Arthur in the kitchen now?

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this was so short!<strong>

**Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the update that took forever! I had left out of state for months and I had no internets. **

**WELL, I am back on track, so maybe this will earn me back some readers, if I didn't already lose everyone. ;A;**

**Next chapter is titled: A visit from a Hero!**


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